Negromancer wrote:I can understand people wanting to spend time and hang around with their idols. Though personally speaking, I've never really been bothered with that dream of hanging out with somebody famours or successfull. I mean, they're just people like you and me in the end. Sometimes they're even bigger assholes than the rest of us, and I can imagine I would personally hate not being able to blend in incognito into a crowd, or be able to drink alone in a bar. As a metal fan in Norway, which has a population total under five million citizens, you often bump into musicians of varying stature.
It's always a good laugh in the summer months to see the invasions of black pvc clad, corpsepainted southen europeans following some of these idols around like ducklings after their mother. I once bought Gaahl a beer our of pure sympathy, but though I suspect afterwards he actually enjoyed some of the attention, especially from the nicely groomed italian goth boys.
Not pointing any fingers or anything! By all means I mean no offence. I've had my share of drinks with musicians here, though most of them have been friends, or friends of friends- or distant relations of friends of friends even. There are of course some stars I'd gladly share a drink with, though if only to discuss politics, philosophy and ideas we have in common. But then again, I you can in theory do that with just about anyone.
Duke Pukem Forever wrote:^^^ one of the better stories involves Blasphemy.... they stole the tombstone of a child, and used it as a prop during shows. They returned it after some people threatened to call the cops... oh, and their drummer went to prison for assaulting the police in an airport.
Repulsion's drummer got the nickname "Grave" because he was caught graverobbing as a teenager.
I've heard quite a few stories regarding the milieu of the early 90's. Some of them probably just pish.
NYDingbat wrote:And now back to the revenge on the arrogant bar staff.
I've got a few suggestions:
1) Send a buncha hens to his jernt on his shift with instructions to order nothing but frozen grasshoppers, pink squirrels (he won't be able to make 'em - nobody's had creme de noya on hand since Studio 54's heyday) and singapore slings. And more frozen drinks. Yep. That'll throw a wrench into his pace. Oh, and they should be hungry. And kvetchy. They should not only send back the food but the cocktails as well, "for an adjustment". Yes, I was a beertender.
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